


Thirty-Two Flavors

by sitabethel



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Deathshipping, M/M, Thiefshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5217320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sitabethel/pseuds/sitabethel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They thought it would be fun, but Marik and Bakura learn the hard way that Risk-Aware Consensual Kink means just that, and safe words do not guarantee that there'll be no problems in a scene/ THIEFSHIPPING & DEATHSHIPPING/ (Mature fic/ lemon/ B&D, D&S, S&M).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirty-Two Flavors

**Author's Note:**

> ***AN: 32 flavors - because relationships have more flavors than a Baskin Robbins***
> 
> ***Prompt by Mogu: "I noticed you using the light system, and I couldn't help but wonder what a red light situation would be. So, how about Marik and Yami Bakura try out some things from Ryou's toybox but quickly find the BDSM life /really/ isn't their thing. I guess they'd have super gentle post "I was not expecting to relive THAT traumatic event during sex" sex? (Make Yami Bakura cry if you think you can. 8D)"*** (Oooops, the lemon afterward wasn't all that gentle because Yami B is a goof, lol).
> 
> ***Disclaimer: Lemons. BDSM scenes. Exploration of a red light scenario and why safe words don't always work (but Bakura doesn't get physically hurt. It's more like he gets psyched out. I still want to mention it just in case anyone is sensitive because I'd rather over-disclaimer than have someone get triggered on accident)***

Kek's skin tingled. He couldn't even feel the whip anymore, only the soft, gentle embrace of subspace where Kek floated like dark through the Ogdoad. He lost all sense of time, but eventually, Ryou's fingers combing through Kek's hair called him back from the expansive bliss. Ryou was speaking, but Kek didn't understand, so he just moaned.

Ryou dusted Kek's forehead with light, angelic kisses, still talking. Kek batted his lashes, trying to focus. He moved his lips, trying to ask for more. He didn't want to stop.  _He didn't want to ever stop,_  but he knew the scene was over and Ryou was bringing him down.

He moaned again and curled against Ryou. He realized they were wrapped together in the fuzzy blanket - the bright blue one with 8-bit Chocobos and Moogles on it.

"Are you coming around?" Ryou asked, petting Kek's brassy spikes of hair.

Kek nodded.

Ryou smiled. It was so bright and holy that it helped Kek focus back on the proper world again. "You responded. Good. You're so good. Here, have some water." Ryou put a bottle of water up to Kek's lips and he took three sips.

Kek  _hated_  how Ryou's mushy, soft talk always made him light up inside. He  _hated_  how happy the praise made him feel. He liked to think that he put up with everything, the orders, the aftercare, the sweet nothings, just as a means to violent ends, but he knew that wasn't true. The violence was what drew him into a relationship with Ryou, but it was in fact the intimacy, the trust, the raw emotion he could both feel and express while acting as a submissive that helped Kek transition from a murderous defense mechanism into something . . . more.

"Do you want some chocolate?" Ryou asked.

Kek nodded a second time. "Yes, please."

He was shivering a touch, but the blanket helped keep him warm. Ryou fed him a Hershey's Kiss and Kek sucked on the chocolate. By his third one he felt more grounded, back in the world. The entire time Ryou held his hand, caressed his wrist, and spoke to Kek in a calm, soothing voice.

"I'm good now, Sir," Kek said. "The chocolate helped."

"You are good." Ryou held Kek's head and kissed each temple. "You're my perfect little pet. What would you like?"

There wasn't much Kek couldn't ask for in that moment. A huge pancake dinner, a nap followed by vanilla sex, Ryou was rather generous with pampering during aftercare - as long as Kek behaved. During the beginning it was different. During the beginning Kek struggled through scenes, and Ryou always chose what to do afterward for them. Usually he had insisted that they lie in bed together and cuddle. Kek had hated it. Back then, he growled and threatened to snap Ryou's neck, but that only made Ryou more aggressive in his affection. Now, Kek enjoyed the stupid, ridiculous, practice and often chose it on his own. Tonight, however, had been an intense scene and he already felt his muscles stiffen as all the endorphins left his system. "Sir, may I have a bath?" It was one of the last times he'd have to use "sir". Once in the bath, they went back to Ryou and Kek instead of Sir and Pet.

Ryou kissed his temples again. "Of course, my pet." He lay Kek down into the softness of the mattress, fluffing a pillow and tucking it beneath Kek's head. "You lie here and rest while I take care of it for you."

"Thank you, sir," Kek muttered, drowsy and calm from the scene.

"Anything for you, my love." Ryou disappeared and Kek dozed while wrapped up in his Chocobo blanket.

Sometimes he still wanted to pluck the sun out of the sky and drown it, submerging the world in darkness. Sometimes he'd see a father scolding his son in public and Kek's fingers would twitch for the Rod, although he knew it was gone. Sometimes he wanted to kill, to destroy, but never after a scene. Everything was soft and comfortable after a scene, it was like floating on a cloud, and if Kek ever felt like he was slipping back to the darkness, he knew Ryou could call him back with whips and floggers, fuzzy blankets and Hershey's Kisses.

He felt a warm hand rest on his shoulder. Kek blinked his eyes back open and looked up at Ryou. His white hair tangled around his face and his dark eyes gleamed as they stared back at Kek. Ryou offered a slender, white hand to Kek, and Kek accepted it and allowed Ryou to help Kek to his feet. The blanket fell from his shoulders, but he'd stopped shivering by that point so it was all right. Ryou led Kek to the bathtub. Candlelight danced against the ceiling, and incense smoke curled upward, doubled by the mirror reflecting the image. The tub itself overflowed with bubbles and the scent of chamomile.

"Come on, Kek," Ryou said, and with the use of Kek's name the scene was officially over although it had technically ended when Ryou wrapped the blanket around Kek's shoulders.

He stepped into the scalding water, hissing as it burned his skin and then sighed as the heat soaked into his sore muscles. Ryou got in the tub with him and started sponging warm water over Kek's back. Kek moaned, lifting his knees up so he could rest his head against them. A sudden panic clenched his stomach, a feeling that he didn't deserve any of this, that he belonged back in the Shadow Realm as a scrap of lost psyche.

"Kek, what's wrong?" Ryou asked, and it wasn't until then that Kek realized his shoulders shook.

"Nothing," he muttered.

"I'm right here, Kek. I'm staying by your side for a long, long time, so please don't worry."

Kek exhaled, leaning back into Ryou's chest and waiting for the panic to pass him over. Ryou's reassurance always helped. He could never tell if these moments were a normal part of the drop from subspace, or weird, unresolved emotions from the days when he was nothing more than a trash bin for Marik's brain.

"Have you been doing your homework?"

Kek's "homework" was a collection of articles about BDSM, specifically information on how to be a good Dom. Ryou had given him a seemingly endless list of links to go through after their last scene. "I've read almost everything. I should get it done tomorrow."

"Good. When you finish, you should start thinking about our next scene."

Kek turned so he could look at Ryou over his shoulder, eyebrow quirked up in a silent question.

Ryou smiled at him. "I think we're ready to switch."

He should have seen it coming, with all the articles Ryou had him reading. Also, the last few scenes it seemed like Ryou had been trying to get Kek to make more and more of the decisions, as if to prime him for taking a leadership role in their partnership. That had been the point, originally - to top. He'd returned from the Shadow Realm confused, disoriented, and  _needing_ to hurt others and be hurt himself. The hunger for dealing and bearing pain consumed him like a vampire's thirst for blood, and Kek - who was still just a shadow of Marik's mind back then - would have picked up where he'd left off at Battle City if Ryou hadn't have found him first.

Ryou had walked right up to him and started talking like they were old friends. It caught Kek off guard, no one had ever had a simple conversation with him before. Ryou asked him then, as he often asked him now,  _what would you like_? And back then the answer had been simple,  _to hurt you_.

He'd expected fear to fill up Ryou's dark eyes when he said it. He'd expected Ryou to start backing away, and then the chase would begin and Kek would have sated himself on Ryou's blood, and Ryou's screams, and Ryou's pain. He had wanted so much to  _break_  the pure white creature before him, mentally and physically  _break_  him.

But he never got the chance to chase him. Ryou never ran; he only smiled. Leaning close, he'd whispered in Kek's ear,  _what if I told you I liked that sort of thing_?

It made Kek take a second look at Ryou, checking for the dark spirit that used to possess him. He couldn't fathom someone else feeling that way,  _liking_  pain.

And then Ryou continued their conversation as if it were nothing, but his topic changed. He told Kek stories about ropes used for binding willing, delighted victims, about weapons used to blur the boundaries between pleasure and pain, but it was also a sort of game, one where the master had to maintain self control, preserving the object of his attentions in order to repeat their lessons again, and again, and again.

Then Ryou asked if he'd be willing to learn the rules of this wholly different sort of Dark Game. How could Kek refuse? The thought of red welts swelling on Ryou's perfect white skin, the thought of Ryou screaming with pain  _and_  pleasure instead of just the former. It was grander than his darkest fantasies, yet Ryou wasn't stupid. The first condition to their powerplay was that Kek would bottom until such a time that Ryou deemed him ready to top. Kek took the news like a sleepy, spoiled child, but the offer was all or none, and he submitted, too curious at this point to simply go back out into the streets and kill people at random. That didn't seem near as fun after hearing some of Ryou's stories.

The goal was always to switch, yet, as time passed, Kek realized he enjoyed being Ryou's pet, enjoyed the structure and discipline, enjoyed the pain and intimacy, enjoyed putting himself at someone else's mercy but never fearing that he'd be truly hurt. Now that Ryou was giving him the chance to hold the leash on the opposite end, he felt a little hesitant.

Ryou kissed the nape of his neck. "Only if you still want to, though. I don't want you to feel like it's expected."

Kek scooped up some of the dissipating bubbles floating above their bathwater. He stared at them, as if scrying into a crystal ball, before answering. "I want to at least try it."

Ryou hummed a little note of approval, kissing the nape of Kek's neck again. He rested his head on Kek's shoulder and sighed long and loud. Kek could tell that Ryou was starting to crash from his own adrenaline high. Inflicting violence wasn't as natural to Ryou as it was for Kek, and he'd confessed before to often feeling exhausted after their more intense scenes. Kek sank his hands below the water, reaching back and giving Ryou's thigh a playful squeeze. "Hey, Ryou?"

"Hmmm?"

"Would you like some tea?"

"Oh . . ." Ryou sat back up. "That does sound really good now that you mention it."

Kek grinned, standing up and grabbing two towels. He dried Ryou off and then himself, allowing Ryou to treat his lash marks before he slipped on a pair of boxers and went into the kitchen. After a few minutes he had two cups of tea on the table and a plate of over-stuffed turkey sandwiches for them to eat for dinner. He wasn't a great cook like Ryou, but Kek made a damn good sandwich. They ate them with pickles.

Ryou kept sneaking glances at Kek. Kek could tell by Ryou's soft, mocha eyes that he was grateful for not having to cook dinner as he emotionally readjusted. Kek wanted to snort and call him a fool. Ryou deserved better than a cup of tea. He deserved someone capable of showering him in poetry and home-baked confections, but what he ended up with was Kek and a turkey sandwich.

"You don't give yourself enough credit," Ryou smiled into his teacup.

Sometimes Kek felt like Ryou could read his damn mind.

"It's written all over your face," Ryou laughed, still acting telepathic.

"Want to finish these in the living room so we can watch something gory?"

Ryou smiled and nodded. They watched some cheap slasher while bundled up in their fuzzy blanket, and then made dango - Ryou was in the mood to cook something after he had time to rest. When they were both ready for bed, the full effects of both the scene and the aftercare had Kek feeling connected to Ryou on a level he never could describe, not even in thoughts. They kissed beneath the covers, their hands caressing each other's bodies.

Concerned that Ryou still may have been physically worn out, Kek decided to lead. They went slow and sweet, and when it was over Kek refused to let go of Ryou's body, holding him until morning.

* * *

Bakura barely had time to brace himself before Marik slammed him up against the wall. He twisted a handful of Bakura's hair into his fist, using his free hand to prep Bakura. Marik's fingers were sloppy and quick inside Bakura's ass, and a minute later he was ramming deep into Bakura's body, well lubed but burning and fierce.

Bakura rested his cheek against the wall, his mouth a constant moan as Marik used him with all the care and gentleness that one used a fleshlight. Bakura liked teeth marks and scratches peppered across his skin each time they fucked. He liked to scream curse words as Marik wrestled him to the bed, or the floor, or against the wall like he was at the moment.

Bakura wanted to  _feel._ He was greedy for sensation, and the rougher the sensation, the harder he came by the end of it all.

He could tell, by the guttural moans coming from Marik that it would end soon, but Bakura refused to stroke himself, wanting to wait until the last  _second_ , wanting every moment of the experience he could steal for himself. He itched from sweat. The sound of their skin slapping together echoed throughout the bedroom, and Bakura started clawing against the drywall as each thrust drove him closer and closer to ecstasy.

Marik made a small, higher pitched noise. It sounded almost loving as Bakura felt the heat of Marik's seed fill him inside. Then Bakura was being pulled away from the wall and thrown on the bed. Marik slammed his bodyweight against Bakura, spitting in his palm, grabbing Bakura's shaft and pumping fast. Bakura snarled, his head was swollen and sensitive and every time Marik brushed his palm against it, it was almost  _too_  much, but Bakura merely swore and jerked his hips up and down to add even more sensation until his stomach was sticky with lacey strings of cooling spunk.

Marik grinned at him a cat with a bird snagged in his claws. Bakura snorted at the cocky expression, but as he turned away a smile lingered on his own face. Marik crawled to his half of the bed, sprawling out and laying on his stomach, occasionally scratching at his lower or upper back where ancient letters marred his skin. Bakura cleaned himself off with some tissue and then stretched out on his own half of the bed. They both fell into a deep sleep. That's another reason Bakura liked to go hard. It exhausted him, made it easier to sleep without dreams. He knew Marik felt the same on that account. Neither one of them wanted to deal with their own dreams.

In the morning Bakura woke up sore and sated. He stumbled to the toilet and then used the shower. Marik was already bathed and dressed and cooking fava beans for their breakfast.

"Smells awful," Bakura muttered, although they ate it most mornings.

"You're welcomed to cook something else, you know." Marik snorted as he added salt and pepper to the pot.

"More fun to bitch." Bakura smirked, stealing a cup of coffee from the pot that Marik had brewed.

Marik rolled his eyes and continued to stir their breakfast. Their arguments were never as acrid first thing in the morning. Neither one of them were awake enough to truly bicker.

Bakura yawned at the ceiling, not bothering to cover his mouth. "I need to drop by Ryou's place."

"What for?"

"My graphics card conked out yesterday. He's going to give me an old one while I wait for my replacement to ship . . . I may have also bought a new motherboard while I was at it."

"Yeah, and let me guess who's credit card you used."

Bakura shrugged. "You're the one that grew a conscience and told me to stop stealing things."

"Didn't you just upgrade your computer?"

"I just switched the RAM to DDR3. That wasn't a big deal."

Marik swiped his hand over his head, showing that he didn't understand a word Bakura just said. "You're a fucking nerd."

Bakura gave Marik the bird. "You like it when your computer isn't working and you expect me to fix it."

Marik laughed, setting a bowl down in front of Bakura and sitting across from him. "Well, apparently I just bought a lot of pre-emptive tech support."

Bakura mimicked Marik's grin as he ate. "Yeah, I guess that's fair."

* * *

Kek growled when he saw who was at the door. "What are you two assholes doing here?"

Bakura pushed his way past Kek. "We're here to see Ryou. If you don't like it you can go fuck yourself."

Kek let Bakura walk past, but tried to slam the door in Marik's face. Marik was too quick, however, slipping inside before the door shut. A look passed between them, as if both wanted to flay the other, but then Ryou entered the room and instinct made Kek lower his gaze. He walked into the kitchen to get away from them, grabbing his cellphone and pulling up the last article on his "homework" list. He realized his mistake right away as Ryou lead the others into the kitchen in order to offer them tea, but it was too late to move at that point, so Kek stayed where he was and ignored them.

Ryou set the kettle on the stove. "Kek, will you get this when it whistles? I need to find my old graphics card."

He almost said  _yes sir_  out of habit, but saved himself with a grunt. Ryou smiled and left Kek alone in the kitchen with Abbott and Costello. For a moment he thought he'd be able to pass the time without having to interact with them, but destiny always did hate Kek.

"What the hell could you possibly find interesting enough to read?" Bakura asked.

"Something a little out of your league," Kek muttered, trying to focus and the words in front of him instead of the assholes in the room with him.

"Must be a picture book." Marik chuckled.

Kek knew the insult was aimed at Bakura, but at that moment he was so sick of Marik's smug, better-than-thou attitude that he couldn't stand it any longer. "Actually, I'm reading an article about Top Drop."

"About what?"

"Top Drop."

"Yes, I heard you, but what the hell is it?"

"You're asking me to describe to you a subjective experience," Kek said, as if bored, as if the topic was one that everyone, except Marik, already knew about. "It's sort of like the crash you get after a Shadow Game - all that power and  _control_  running through your fingertips, and then it's over and you're just left with . . . yourself. Some Doms say they don't experience it."

"Dom? Are you talking about those weirdos that wear leather and walk people around on dog leashes?"

Kek set his phone down and shot Marik an incredulous look, getting up to make tea. "Seriously, Marik, what sort of porn do you watch? BDSM is a little more complicated than walking a man around on a dog leash."

"Like you would know," Marik scoffed.

"I  _would_  know, as a matter of fact."

Bakura, who sat at the table with his chin resting in his palm, jerked up at Kek's last comment. He pulled a knife and jabbed it beneath Kek's jaw bone. "If you've been hurting my host, I swear to the fucking gods-"

Ryou's voice floated into the kitchen. "Bakura, I haven't been your  _host_  in a long time, and if you so much as scratch my sweet pet I will hurt you so bad that you'll be begging for the Shadow Realm before I so much as get blood on my instruments."

Bakura pulled the knife away to march up to Ryou and scowl. "What the hell are you letting him do to you in bed?"

Ryou stood still, face blank and body still like alabaster. He had his Top persona face on, and Kek was amused, and aroused, to see him standing ground against his former other half. Ryou spoke with calm, concise, ease. "Whether it is in our bed, on the floor, or tied up in a harness, I do not  _let_  him do anything to me. I  _tell_  him what to do and he obeys."

"Wait,  _you're_ the . . . this is a joke, right?" Marik asked, leaning against the counter and drinking his tea as if knife-play and threats were part of any other weekend visit. He turned to address Kek. "I don't believe you simply jump every time Ryou snaps his fingers."

Kek buried his face in his phone. "I shouldn't have said anything. You two aren't mature enough to have this conversation."

Bakura snorted, stowing his knife and crossing his arms over his chest. "You're not fucking tough. People get tied up and fucked all the damn time, so quit acting special."

"It's a bit more complicated than that." Ryou sat at the table next to Kek. "Bakura, I already know where you'll take this, but I wouldn't advise it. I think it be safer if you two stuck with vanilla sex."

"Vanilla?" Bakura scoffed as if the word were an insult. "I don't care what kind of amateur kink you're into - bet you 5,000 yen we fuck better than you guys even without your whips and chains."

Ryou sighed, handing him the graphics card he was still holding. "Go fix your computer so we can game tonight."

"What? You're not going to tie your bitch up and spank him tonight instead?"

"You have to plan a scene before you can act it out, you moron."

Since Kek and Ryou were comfortable with each other, they sometimes engaged in spontaneous scenes, but he wasn't going to mention that to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.

Bakura snorted. "And you called our sex vanilla? Apparently you're the ones who need to pull out a clipboard before you can even fuck."

"Not every experience is powerplay, Bakura," Ryou said.

Marik finished his tea and set the cup on the counter. "Oh quit kinkshaming them, Bakura. If some belts and handcuffs keep my alter from burning down Domino City, then let them go at it."

Bakura stood and took the card out of Ryou's hand. "You know, for once I can't argue."

They both moved to leave. Ryou stood up with them to show them out.

"Hey Marik," Kek said.

Marik glanced over his shoulder as the two Bakuras walked out of the kitchen. The disdain was apparent on his face. "What do you want?"

Kek glanced at the kitchen door to make sure Bakura wouldn't return, he wanted Marik to listen to him and not argue with Bakura. "Look, Ryou's right, Bakura's a competitive idiot and as soon as you get home you know he's going to grab some rope and ask you to tie him up."

Marik smirked. "So I'll tie him up and let him feel hardcore? What does it matter? I told him to stay out of your business - so you should stay out of ours."

"Wait." Kek growled.

He wasn't sure why he even cared if those two idiots hurt themselves - perhaps it's because he had started the conversation. He figured he should learn to be more responsible than that, if he wanted Ryou to trust him enough to be a Dom during their next scene.

"Look. It's called _risk aware consensual kink_  for a reason. There are  _risks_ , and as a Submissive, he's putting his safety his your hands and you have to treat that with the respect it deserves."

Marik only smirked, as if proud of himself. "So you naturally assume I would Top him, huh? Is it that obvious?"

Kek rolled his eyes, trying to stay on point. "Bakura's pain tolerance is way over the normal limit of a typical person. He'll let you do anything, even if it hurts him."

"I thought the point  _was_  to hurt him a little?"

"A little, yeah, enough to make him high as a kite, not enough to make him bleed out on the floor.  _You_  have to be the one in charge of that. _You_  have to stop thinking about yourself for five minutes and put his safety over your ego."

Marik started laughing. "I don't believe we're having the conversation. Chill out. I'll go home, tie him up, smack his ass a few times, and he'll forget all about it."

"Will you at least read a few articles?" Kek asked.

Marik frowned. "That's not really necessary."

"I'll text them to you. I . . ." Kek paused. He didn't really want to talk about it, not with Marik. Marik's stupid mental problems were the reason that Kek existed  _and_ why Kek enjoyed S&M as a way to indulge in some of his own issues while trying to stumble through humanity without killing anyone, but it was his fault they'd started the conversation so he needed to finish it. "Ryou and I are going to switch soon. I've been reading things to prepare myself. You should at least read a few of the basic articles. We're not like normal people, Marik. We're _good_  at hurting, and we have to keep that in mind when we indulge in that fantasy."

Marik's smirk was gone. He wore an uncharacteristically somber expression. "Sure. Whatever. send the links over. I  _may_  read them if I have the time."

* * *

Bakura paced the length of the living room, speaking with hand gestures as much as words. Marik sat on the couch with his cell phone. He was reading a basic article about being a Dom. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because Bakura really  _did_  seem wound up on the topic for some reason. Maybe it was because his talk in the kitchen was the first moment where Kek ever tried to talk to Marik like a real person and not like Marik was Dr. Frankenstein.

"Ryou's such an asshole. Vanilla. Fuck him."

"You are taking it far too seriously, Bakura," Marik muttered, knowing Bakura would only snap at him, but he was reading so he didn't mind the argument as background noise.

"We could come up with a scene twice as good as any of theirs."

"Sure we could."

"Are you even listening to me?"

Marik looked up and caught Bakura's eyes before going back to his article. "No Bakura, I'm not listening at all to you ramble about BDSM because you think you need to measure yourself up against your old host for some reason."

"I'm not  _measuring_ against him," Bakura protested. "I'm just  _saying_  we'd do it better."

"Well, you have lots of rope, right? I'll tie you up tonight."

"That's beginner's stuff." Bakura waved off Marik's suggestion.

Marik had to urge to explain that beginners stuff was more along the lines of communicating and setting up boundaries.  _That_  had some ironic humor to it - he and Bakura, engaging in open and frank communication. They were doomed from the start if they had to be honest with each other. Marik and Bakura's version of powerplay had always been verbal, always hiding the truth beneath layers of insinuation and innuendo. It worked for them. That's  _why_  they worked, because Marik always expanded when Bakura contracted, because Bakura always pushed when Marik pulled, it was a natural rhythm between them. Setting them up in static roles would tie their feet and keep them both on their knees, stuck on the ground and unable to dance.

Bakura returned to his pacing. "We'll need to get proper manacles with a key, and a mouth bit, and something better than a sleeping mask to use as a blindfold."

"Bakura, are you listening to yourself?" Marik looked up again.

He was starting to feel a little nervous - and excited. The image of Bakura tied and helpless was erotic as fuck, and Marik's cock swelled imagining it.

Bakura grinned. "What? Afraid to try something different?"

"Not at all." Marik shrugged with a single shoulder. "But are we really doing this? Planning the scene, staying in our roles, following up with aftercare - or our we just buying some extra sex toys to play with?"

Bakura gave Marik a grin that verged on boyish, like he had a shiny new scheme to defeat the Pharaoh although their scheming days were  _mostly_  behind them. "Let's do the whole thing."

Marik smirked "You know you'll have to call me  _master_ , right?"

Bakura lept onto the couch beside Marik. "Not if I have a bit in my mouth."

That made Marik frown as he scanned the article he was reading. "How the hell are you supposed to say Redlight if there's a bit in your mouth, anyway."

"Why the hell  _would_  I say Redlight?"

"It's a common safety word."

"Why the hell would we use safe words?"

"In case you don't like what I'm doing, Bakura."

"Seriously, Marik, what  _haven't_  you done to me at this point - hey, what are you reading, anyway?" Bakura snatched the phone from Marik's hand.

"Asshole, if lose my spot-"

"Wait, is this what you've been reading all morning?"

"As a matter of fact-" Marik stole his phone back from Bakura.

"Sneaky bastard, you were acting so nonchalant."

"Well, I have to admit, some of this is fascinating."

"Well then." Bakura smirked. "Are you going to hand your credit card over or do I need to swipe it?"

"Bring your laptop in here so we can plan the scene while you shop."

Bakura stood, walking towards their bedroom to get his laptop. The facetious grin on his face threatened to split his expression wide open. "Whatever you command,  _master_."

* * *

Ryou had the most exquisite blush lingering along his cheekbones. Kek spent the earlier half of the evening forcing Ryou to kneel on the floor while balancing a crop on top of his head. Only once, when Ryou sneezed, did he break his posture, allowing Kek to deliver six good whacks to Ryou's flawless, mother-of-pearl backside. After an hour of kneeling, Kek had rewarded his pet by pulling Ryou into his lap and stroking him until Ryou's head was swollen and an angry red-violet color. He didn't allow Ryou to climax, however. Instead, he'd ordered Ryou to take a thorough shower and then wear an outfit Kek had bought for him that morning.

Now they sat at a restaurant. For appearances, they both had plates of sashimi, but Ryou was only allowed to eat what Kek put into his mouth - hence, the blush. They were almost done with their meal, so Kek decided to spring his final trap on Ryou.

He pulled out a small box wrapped in golden ribbon. "Here. I have a present for you."

"Thank you, sir," Ryou whispered. "May I open it."

"Go into the restroom and open it in private."

"Yes, sir." The fire burning on Ryou's cheeks spread across his nose as well.

Kek couldn't help but sigh at how cute his embarrassed little pet was. Served him right, too. When Kek was a new submissive, Ryou had dragged him to Yugi's birthday party with a small vibrator inside him - only Kek hadn't known it was a vibrator. Throughout the night, any time Kek had acted sullen or started to get angry, Ryou had used his cell phone to send the vibe a signal to pulse while inside Kek's body. It was hard to stay mad, even at that moron Katsuya, when a vibrator was humming  _Jingle Bells_  inside your asshole. At least the plug Kek had bought Ryou for tonight was just a standard, non vibrating plug.

Ryou returned a moment later, quite flushed. Kek grinned. "You've been so good tonight, sweet, that I think you deserve dessert."

Ryou took a sip of water and cleared his throat before answering. "Thank you, sir."

* * *

On the outside, Marik looked as cool, as calculating, as cruel as ever, but on the inside he was sort of a jittery mess. Bakura looked tempting laying on his stomach on their bed. The only thing he wore was a sardonic smirk and a look that screamed  _command me._

"Up on all fours," Marik said, fascinated by how smooth and silken he voice sounded even as his heart thrashed against his ribcage. Bakura kept his undivided gaze on Marik as he licked his lips and pushed himself up on hands and knees.

"Good," Marik said, "now turn and face the headboard."

"Yes master," Bakura purred.

Marik held a long, willowy sjambok in his hands. He lashed out with the rigid whip once against Bakura's flank. Bakura shot Marik complex look. His expression struggled between fury, arousal, and a need to stay in character for their master/slave roleplay.

Normally Marik would encourage Bakura's anger, and his arousal, by goading him into an argument. This time, he simply said, "That was for speaking out of turn. Next time you'll get four."

Bakura didn't say anything. Acting like a good slave, he finished out the command Marik had given him and faced the headboard.

"Do you have something to say to me?"

Bakura looked nonplussed, but he was probably furious. "I will not not speak out of turn again, master."

"Good boy. Wrists up."

Bakura obeyed and Marik grabbed the broad, leather cuffs that connected to a leather collar. He strapped Bakura into the bindings and then locked them into place. "Light?"

"Blue, master."

Without thinking about it, Marik kissed Bakura on the mouth, a simple, quick kiss. Bakura's cinnamon eyes flicked towards Marik, questioning him. Marik only brushed his thumb along Bakura's ivory cheek, feeling oddly attached to Bakura at that moment.

Then he remembered what it was they were doing and focused back on the restraints. "Try to escape."

Bakura gave Marik another quizzical look.

The faintest trace of a smile appeared on Marik's face. "I recall more than one story about you escaping from chains when you were the King of Thieves."

Bakura grinned, blatant pride in his expression. He started wiggling, trying to hitch his thumb to the center of his palm to make his wrist narrow enough to slip through, but the cuffs were fur-lined, so he couldn't slip out of them, and the chain connecting them to his neck wasn't long enough to give him enough room to maneuver well.

"Are they too tight?" Marik asked.

"No . . . master," Bakura said, not really paying attention to his words or Marik, but rather focusing on  _getting out_  of the trap he was in.

"Can you get out of them?"

Bakura clenched his jaw, growling at the cuffs in a final attempt to muscle out of them before giving up. "Maybe not."

Marik accepted that as a  _no master_. It was the closest Bakura would come to confessing he couldn't do something no matter how many times Marik hit him with the sjambok, so there was no point in pressing the matter.

He gave Bakura a cool stare, keeping in character. "So you're helpless, yes?"

Bakura stared at Marik for a moment, as if the reality of the situation was just beginning to dawn on him. Bakura nodded his head in agreement.

Marik gestured to the headboard. A bell-studded rope hung right in front of Bakura. "Can you reach the rope and ring it once?"

Bakura demonstrated that he could.

"How about multiple times?"

Again, Bakura showed that he could.

"Good boy. One ring is yellow and more than one is red. Do you understand?"

"Yes master," Bakura said, his tone calm and quiet.

Marik held his right hand. "Squeeze."

He could see that Bakura struggled not to roll his eyes out of sarcastic habit as he squeezed Marik's hand.

"Now squeeze it three times."

Bakura gave Marik's hand three quick pulses.

"Good boy," Marik whispered, letting go of Bakura's hair and brushing the bangs away from Bakura's forehead. "I'll check in from time to time this way. Same as the bells, one squeeze is yellow, more than one is red."

When they planned the scene, Bakura had laughed when Marik said he wanted to use bells, but Marik refused to do it unless Bakura agreed. He didn't care how enthusiastic Bakura was about being tied up and abused,  _Marik_  wanted a safety net. As someone who'd been forced to lay face-down while tied and gagged and in the dark, he  _insisted_  that Bakura had a way to say  _stop_. Marik had done awful things in his life, but he never wanted to make Bakura feel like he had all those years ago as a child - that was too much.

Bakura lay cuffed with forearms comfortably resting on the bed and his ass in the air for Marik to do with as he would. His head was close enough to the bell that, even if he had problems with his hands, he could stretch out and use his head to nudge the rope and make noise.

Marik took the leather and silicon bit and held it in front of Bakura's eyes so he could see it. "Are you ready?"

Bakura nodded.

"This is your last chance to talk before the scene ends, so I'll let you speak freely."

"Oh,  _master_  is too kind, letting me speak freely." Bakura snickered, his voice sarcasm and gravel. "Well,  _master_ , if we're done with all your bell jingling foreplay, can we proceed to the part where you fuck my brains out?"

Marik grinned. "You know what? We should have bought a gag for you years ago. Open your mouth, slave."

With that, Marik slipped behind Bakura and fitted the bit into his mouth. He reached over Bakura's shoulder and held his hand again. "Check in."

Bakura didn't squeeze (which would have been yellow), but did caress his thumb along Marik's wrist to show that he was listening. The subtle gesture made Marik feel more confident in the scene. He kissed the crown of Bakura's snowy hair and then found the blindfold, tying it over Bakura's eyes.

Marik grazed his nailed down Bakura's spine. "Such a beautiful slave. Be good and wait patiently."

Marik stood up and fetched the bottle of lube waiting on their dresser. He rested it on the nightstand that sat closer to their bed. Then he grabbed a peacock feather and a knife - the knife was for teasing gently along the skin, not cutting. He set those on the nightstand as well. He took his time gathering the supplies, allowing the suspension to build.

* * *

Ryou lay naked on their bed. Kek had ordered him to grab his knees and spread himself out wide, and now Kek stood in silence at the foot of the bed staring at Ryou. Ryou's face burned, but his face had been burning the entire night, so it wasn't much of a development. It'd been so long since he'd bottomed in a scene that Ryou had forgotten how much he liked the attention - even if it did make him blush.

Also, he was impressed with how well Kek was doing. Never had  _risk aware consensual kink_  been so literal as that day Ryou had found the former shadow pacing in the alley. Even now, Ryou had worried that Kek might go straight for a S&M scene. When he explained to Ryou what he actually had planned for a first scene, mild training and discipline so they could feel out their new roles, Ryou became really excited, his love of role play getting the better of him. Ryou's heart fluttered during their entire date as they acted out their dominant/submissive roles in public.

And now Kek was slipping the plug out of Ryou and inserting himself in instead. Ryou moaned, his eyelids fluttering as Kek's movement made the bed creak and groan. Between Kek's earlier teasing, and having to wear the plug for the end of their date, it didn't take long for Ryou to lose himself to a wanton haze. All he could think about was how good each jab to his prostate felt, and how badly he needed to touch himself.

Ryou grabbed his shaft, feeling the hot, throbbing skin and muscle in his hand, but he only got to enjoy a few strokes before Kek pulled away. "I didn't give you permission to touch yourself."

 _Dammit,_ Ryou thought to himself. He'd gotten so caught up in the moment, that he utterly forgot that he'd been instructed to keep his hands on his knees.

"Flip over," Kek instructed.

Ryou obeyed without argument.

"How many strikes should I give you?"

"Seven, sir," Ryou answered, hoping that was a high enough answer, although he probably low balled it since he'd gotten six for sneezing earlier.

"Why seven?"

"It's a lucky number, sir."

"Mmmm," Kek hummed. "I don't really believe in luck, so what if I give you nine instead?"

Ryou's balls ached enough by that point - wanting release - that Kek could have said twenty and Ryou would have thanked him for the privilege. "Sir, I deserve nine for disappointing you."

The first smack with the riding crop stung, but by the end Ryou felt a light buzz all across his skin, similar to the feeling of static prickling the nape of his neck before a thunderstorm.

"Return," Kek said.

Ryou lay on his back. His rump would be sore later, but at the moment he was too eager to care.

"Hands back on your knees, wider this time. I want to see everything."

Ryou spread his legs as far as he could, his heart jittery in his chest as he waited without patience for Kek to enter him again.

He wasn't going to indulge Ryou so easily. He spent a few moments admiring the sight of Ryou, leaning close and kissing his thighs. "My pet is so lovely."

Ryou was beyond the point of feeling bashful or self conscious. The only reason he didn't beg Kek to hurry was because he knew if he did, it wouldn't be a smack with a riding crop he'd get - Kek would order him to make the bed, or vacuum, or wash the windows, before they continued. Maybe Kek would even tease Ryou to the brink of release again only to deny him the relief. Ryou couldn't endure any more delays, so he stayed quiet and submissive and waited like a good boy until his Sir was ready to continue, which only took another moment, and then he was back inside Ryou, pounding until stars flashed in Ryou's vision.

Ryou dug his nails into his knees, almost crying because it was so good. Kek groaned as he came, eyes smashed shut, veins throbbing near his temples. Ryou gasped for air,  _desperate._

" _Mmmm_. Do you know what would please me, my pet?"

"No, sir. I do not. Would you please tell me?"

He leaned down, hot breath an agonizing temptation against Ryou's need. "To taste you as you cum. Will you indulge me, my pet?"

"Anything y-you wish, Sir." Ryou sighed, his breathing shaky from anticipation.

Kek took Ryou's cock into his mouth, and Ryou couldn't help but scream. His nails were probably breaking skin, but he had to keep them sunk into his knees so he didn't grab Kek's hair.

Ryou died a small, sweet death, and afterward, he only knew that he lived once again because of the pounding of his heart and the noise of his gasping breaths. Kek swallowed, and then scooped Ryou up in his arms, burying his face in Ryou's hair. "How do you feel, Ryou?"

Ryou smiled, still catching his breath. "Worn out and awesome."

Kek chuckled. "Let me see your cute backside."

Ryou shifted up so Kek could look at the area he'd smacked with the crop. He caressed Ryou's skin. "I don't think it will bruise much."

"Don't worry, love. I would have told you if you were hitting too hard." Ryou looked at his knees. A few thin crescents marred the white, and Kek rubbed some ointment on them although they probably didn't need it.

"What would you like?" Kek asked, taking a drink from the bottle of water they always kept on the nightstand during a scene.

Ryou grinned, accepting the water when Kek offered it to him and drinking before he answered. "A bowl of ice cream."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. So okay, hear me out," Ryou spoke before Kek could mention that they already had dessert once that evening. "We split a slice of cheesecake, but if we split a bowl of ice-cream it'll only count as one dessert still because we each had two halves."

Kek rolled his eyes, grabbing their favorite, fuzzy blue blanket and wrapping Ryou up in it. He carried Ryou to the kitchen, setting him down in a chair and getting out the carton of vanilla bean ice-cream, one bowl and one spoon. Kek set his chair in front of Ryou so he could feed him ice-cream in between his own bites like they'd done at the restaurant.

"So how do  _you_  feel?" Ryou asked.

Kek blushed and shrugged with a spoon of ice-cream in his mouth. He never did respond well to that question. He'd answer it well enough if Ryou asked as his Dom, but when Ryou asked as Ryou, Kek usually got flustered.

Ryou tried to present the question in a more specific manner. "Were you satisfied with the scene?"

"I think it went well. Were you happy with it?"

Ryou nodded. "I feel so comfortable when I'm your Dom, that I forgot how fun it can be to Sub."

"So, so should I top again next time, or should we go back, or . . ."

Ryou wiggled out of his blanket, setting the icecream off to the side. Ryou held both of Kek's cheeks as he kissed Kek's lips. Ryou smiled. "What would you like?"

* * *

Slipping back on the bed, Marik noticed that Bakura's posture looked a little tense. He slipped his hands along Bakura's shoulders and started to massage them. He expected Bakura to relax, but his shoulders twitched beneath Marik's fingers. Marik's eyes flicked to the bells dangling from their rope. Bakura wasn't reaching for them, so Marik continued rubbing Bakura's shoulders. He slid his fingers into Bakura's mess of hair, tugging his head back, but minding the fact that the collar kept the mobility of his neck limited.

He heard a sharp intake of breath through Bakura's nostrils, and Marik smiled at the noise as he slid his opposite hand into Bakura. "Check in for me."

Bakura didn't squeeze, but he didn't brush his thumb against Marik's wrist either. Between the lack of response, and the tension in Bakura's muscles, Marik frowned. Nothing  _seemed_  wrong, but at the same time, something didn't feel exactly  _right_  either.

"Bakura, if you can hear me nod your head."

No response.

"Bakura?" Marik asked again, blinking. "Bakura nod your head."

No response.

"Dammit." Marik started to untie the bit.

He was careful to ease it out of Bakura's mouth, which was difficult because Bakura's jaw was clenched down on it. As soon as he pulled it away, a strangled noise hiccuped from Bakura's mouth, a sort of irritated protest mixed with a sob.

"Bakura what's wrong?" Marik asked as he worked on untying the blindfold. Marik noticed tears on Bakura's cheeks. He wiped them away with quick, graceless swipes of his hands.

Bakura darted his eyes around the room, but didn't answer. Marik took the key for Bakura's cuffs and unbound him completely, pulling Bakura into his arms and petting his hair.

"I'm fine," Bakura murmured against Marik's spice-colored chest after half a minute dragged by.

"What did I do wrong?" Marik asked. "Was something too tight?"

"What? No," Bakura muttered, still sounding a little far away.

Marik held him tighter in his arms, holding his own breath so he could feel Bakura breathing against his chest instead.

"Stop coddling me," Bakura whispered. "I said I was fine."

He didn't sound fine. He wasn't cracking jokes or smirking. He was staring at the wall, still in Marik's arms, and barely speaking above a whisper. Marik's arms shook.

"Marik, I'm fine."

"You wouldn't check in. You didn't squeeze my hand or nod, not even when I called your name."

"I . . ." Bakura stopped. He felt heavy in Marik's arms as if he were changing from flesh to marble even as Marik held him. He jerked once in Marik's hold, and then sighed. "I never knew . . . how much it bothered me."

"Being blindfolded?"

Bakura swallowed, leaning a little closer to Marik as if cold. "You've blindfolded me before. You've tied me up before, but when we normally do it, we're trash talking the entire time. Just now - when I couldn't move or see or speak - it caved in on me all at once, and then you left the bed and I was alone, which made me freak out for some reason."

The silence lingered that time, and when Marik realized Bakura wouldn't break it again, he spoke. "I was right here. I never went further than the dresser."

Bakura grunted. "Felt like I was back in the Ring - not towards the end when I didn't care . . . it felt like the day I died - that first moment when I realized I was trapped."

Marik's fingers dug into Bakura's pale skin. He pulled Bakura back so they could stare eye-to-eye, and shook his head. "I-I didn't mean . . . I didn't want you to feel like that- I-"

Bakura pressed a kiss into Marik's lips, several strands of white hair tickled their mouths through the kiss, but neither of them moved the hair away. Bakura kept his mouth near Marik's as he spoke. "Stop, Marik."

But Marik couldn't stop. Too much adrenaline poisoned his system, so he shook his head. "I tried. Bakura, I tried. I read everything I could. I know I'm an asshole, but I swear I didn't want you to feel like that." He forced his eyes to meet Bakura's stare. "Is there anything I can do? Is there anything you want?"

Bakura silenced him up with another kiss. "Shut-up, you idiot," he whispered, his voice warm and soft. He was grinning again, and Marik relaxed a little at the sight.

Marik sighed, trying to ease the tension out of his body. His grip on Bakura's shoulders loosened; instead, he draped his arms around Bakura's neck while a mild smirk played on his features. "Come on. I don't offer to be nice to you just any day. You should take advantage of this while you can."

Bakura chuckled. "When you put it that way . . . remember the pint of rocky road you told me you weren't sharing with me?"

"You want to share it?"

"No. I want all of it." Bakura tried to stand up and dash to the kitchen.

Marik grabbed him around the waist before he could escape. "Fuck you. That's mine!'"

Bakura continued to fight, and Marik wrestled him down to the mattress. By the time he managed to pin Bakura's wrists above his head, they were both jeweled in sweat, and their hair looked wind-swept from their struggle. Marik paused, looking at Bakura naked and panting hard from the effort of struggling. Bakura's eyes gleamed as he gave his lips an intentional lick. "Hey Marik?"

"What?" Marik tried to growl out the word, but his only managed to sound breathy and flirtatious.

"You should put the cuffs back on me."

"Are you out of your fucking mind!" Marik screamed.

"You can separate them from the collar, right? C'mon. It'll be fun."

"I cannot fucking believe you." Marik squeezed Bakura's wrists. "I - you know what?" Marik grabbed the cuffs, unlocking the collar attachment and chaining Bakura's wrists. "There. Happy?"

Bakura splayed his legs open and jerked his hips up. "It's a start."

"Yeah?" Marik asked, dashing for the lube and returning to his spot between Bakura's legs. He guided two slick fingers into Bakura's entrance. "What about this? Better?"

Bakura grunted, lids lowering on his eyes and mouth hanging ajar.

"Hey Bakura?"

"Mmmm?"

"Never call me master again. I think I hate it."

"How about jackass?"

"How about Marik?" Marik eased into Bakura and started circling his hips.

Bakura groaned, looping his chained wrists around Marik's neck so he could press their bodies together. "Mmm-Marik!"

Marik released an exhale, sucking in the scent of his and Bakura's warming bodies. He held him a little tighter than usual, and maybe he stroked Bakura's hair, and maybe Bakura didn't tease him for the sentimental gesture. Marik reached for the lube, fumbling with the bottle and then splashing for few drops onto Bakura's erection. He rolled the palm of his hand up and down Bakura's shaft, covering over inch with lubrication before he began gliding his closed fist up and down.

" _Ah_! Marik!"

Marik licked salt and sweat from his own lips, his own breaths coming fast and quick as he and Bakura raced each other to see who'd finish first. Marik's name dissolved into a beautiful heap of consonants as Bakura lost his ability to pronounce entire words and began to howl in pleasure instead.

Bakura was stark white mayhem - white limbs tangled around Marik's golden flesh, white hair sprayed across the sheets, white eyebrows furrowed as his pale lips stretched in a wide O. Looking back, Marik couldn't remember why he'd ever wanted to gag Bakura. It was like throwing the top half of a cupcake away, and whoever said vanilla was a bad flavor anyway?


End file.
